


With Eyes Anew

by Rider_of_Spades



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: And the long road ahead, F/M, Old Souls, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 11:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades
Summary: Prompt: "She’s not your second chance– she’s your first."On the implications of being in love with a Homunculus.





	With Eyes Anew

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed. Please leave a comment if you notice any problems with the grammar, thank you. :)

 

Sometimes, being with Lust is like walking on a tightrope above a freezing ocean: it’s always a precarious balance at best. Just as the peace stays long enough to lull you into feeling safe, there you go again, tumbling down and destroying your self-made illusions.

 

It’s not a purposeful manipulation on her part. She is still so void of understanding, her birth baptised with survival and bloodshed ( _like you_ , a voice whispers), such that her acts of kindness and cruelty blur. You have found yourself explaining why a chronically ill mute might not find death by impalement a mercy, or drawing her away from a staring crowd to teach that when two arms wrap around her, they are not usually meant to trap and hurt. You have also told your brethren who (what) she is, no more and no less, and each day their generous patience piles on you, sloughing away your own. And you had thought you nursed no more naiveté, before time proved to you that neither the lessons you feed her keen, open mind nor her own craving for humanity could transform her, as you’d both hoped. (Although, you should also concede that for all your childhood steeped in family, laughter and comfort food, you are not the best teacher of such things.)

 

You should, by all rights, let go. Except you are all she has, and she became your responsibility when you grasped her wrist that cloudy night, with no protection from her unstoppable weapons except your words of persuasion. It was your fault for painting your hopes so realistically they become a promise. It was your fault for not looking to the bitter fate of your past for once, but _vowing_ a brighter future, where two damaged weapons could somehow become people. Together.

 

But the thing is, you cannot forget the brightness of her newborn smile, truly from the heart. You cannot look away from her wondrous eyes, seeing the world from outside the veil of wariness and war, the people, the sound and colour, all for the first time. You cannot help but fall in love with her, her, her milk-pale venom-beauty-innocent _her_ , again and again like that first time.

 

For the both of you that’s enough. Though neither of you are the type to stand still long enough to grow roots and settle, this was how you built a home: conversations around a campfire. Wry self-deprecating jokes at your own tragedy, soothed by her understanding smirks. Her hands, forever trusting and inhumanly cold, ever ready to grasp yours. Her first try at making a lunch hour stew. Her peace and awe at her own smallness amongst God’s creations, and how she wakes in you a secret softness, a lightness of the heart.

 

This is your chance to build a new story, for the both of you. This is the person whose side gave you that foothold. This is your life, with eyes so anew, that she’s not your second chance– she’s your first.


End file.
